Stories From the 4077
by LovePeaceandMusic
Summary: Series of short stories from different characters' POV including my original character, Belle Winifred . Some are very short, more like ficlets, others are nice sized.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Sorry for the massive delays! I'm still here, haven't fallen off the face of the earth yet. I've had material for ages, but school started up again and this year is a doozy! This is the first week for ages that I haven't had a project! But I digress.

Corporal Maxwell Klinger

It's the middle of the night and I'm pacing up and down an Army camp in Korea in a dress with a rifle over my shoulder.

If that sounds funny, then how about this last detail: I'm a man. A man in the Army trying desperately to get out. That explains the dress. That's going to be my ticket home: a Section 8, a psycho discharge. I figure that if wearing women's clothes got my uncle out of WWII, it will get me out of Korea. And boy would that be great. Back to Toledo, home sweet home. I can almost taste the sausage that you can only get there. And back to Lorraine. She's my gal back home, the best you'll ever see.

If only this Section 8 would work.

And quickly.

Because sometimes, in quiet nights like these when I'm alone with my thoughts… I wonder if I'm still only pretending.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Henry Blake

Being in charge is never easy. Especially when you're in charge of a bunch like we have at the 4077th. Some of the stories I have of these people!

Just the other day Hawkeye Pierce came in here complaining:

_"Henry, can't you do something about Frank?"_

_"Trust me, Hawkeye. If I could, I would. But I can't get rid of a surgeon on account of unpopularity."_

_"No, I mean about him bothering Belle all the time. She barely even does anything, and he goes off!"_

_"Frank does that to everyone."_

_"He didn't used to bother Belle like that, though. It's only because she's with me."_

_I sighed. I didn't dare encourage Hawkeye to do something about it on his own, so I asked the question that had been buzzing around in the back of my mind. "If it's such a problem, how come she hasn't come to me?"_

_That seemed to take Hawkeye by surprise momentarily. "Well… you know how she is…doesn't like to complain."_

_I chuckled. "Seems like someone's being a touch overprotective."_

_"Am not!"_

_"Listen, if I see something happen, I'll say something, otherwise, I wouldn't worry about it. Belle's gone through worse than Frank Burns."_

_Hawkeye glared mutinously at me for about a second, before he brightened up and agreed._

I was still a little unsettled. Something more was bound to come of this.

I had barely finished that thought before Margaret Houlihan burst in through my door. "Colonel, Frank's being attacked by a wild dog!"

"What?" I jumped to my feet and followed Margaret outside.

As soon as I saw Frank running, panicked, around camp with a shaggy brown and white dog following him excitedly around, I laughed.

"You think that's funny?" Margaret screeched.

"That's no wild dog! That's Radar's dog! Here, boy, c'mere!"

The dog stopped, looked at me, looked back at Frank, and then trotted over to me with a big doggy grin. Margaret rushed over to Frank, but recoiled slightly once she got close.

"Frank... are you covered with gravy?"

"Hawkeye," I muttered.

I _knew _something was coming.


	3. Chapter 3

Major Frank Burns

It's not easy being the most hated guy around. Trust me, I would know. From my childhood of being bullied by my older brother to now, in this excuse for a military camp, I was always the victim.

Pierce and McIntyre, they think they're so funny. And that's the worst part. They are having fun, aren't they? Whenever I try to have a little fun, I always end up getting everyone angry at me.

The one time I try to do something back, it completely backfires. Pierce was wounded and I sabotaged his recovery, and tried to blame it on his precious Winifred. Then, he would know what it's like to be weak and friendless. But that got me in trouble, even with Margaret.

Ah, Margaret. She's the only decent person here. I look forward to those secret meetings in the supply closet and in her tent at night. But she's not here right now. She's off in Tokyo on some nurse's convention.

So now I'm all by myself, eating alone in the mess tent.

Oh no, not for long. Here come Pierce and McIntyre and they have that look. That never leads to anything good.

Thus begins another long day in the life of me, Frank Burns.


	4. Chapter 4

Captain Trapper John McIntyre

I stumbled out of another long surgery session, Hawkeye next to me. "Come on, Hawk. Let's get some sleep."

I turned, but he was gone. There was only one thing that would make him move that fast. Women. Or, as was the case now, Belle Winifred. I sighed.

I soon spotted them through the throng of other people coming from surgery. Hawkeye had his arm around Belle. Her brown curls shone in the moonlight and her gray eyes glinted with amusement. He was probably telling her a joke.

I sighed again and headed off to bed. How had I gotten in this predicament? Being in love with your best friend's girl? Especially since I'm married. This sort of thing is only supposed to happen in soap operas.

That night, I dreamt of Belle. Belle and me.

But the dream ended, and I woke up. Of course.

It was morning, and Hawkeye was humming as he shaved.

"Morning, Trapper."

"Mornin'"

"What's up?" he stopped humming and looked at me, concern darkening his eyes.

Should I tell him? I couldn't. Belle and Hawkeye were happy together. I don't think either of them would be happy if I was with Belle. So I would have to deal with it. That's what friends do, make sacrifices.

"Nothing, Hawk... Just a dream."


	5. Chapter 5

Margaret Houlihan

I stepped out of my tent into the sweltering summer heat. I quickly spotted Frank heading towards the mess tent. I nonchalantly made my way over and "accidentally" bumped into him.

"Oh, sorry Major!" I said, acting as if I really hadn't known he was there.

He turned, putting on a surprised face that was sure to fool everyone, although _I_ could tell he wasn't. "Oh, it's alright, I barely noticed! Shall we sit together?"

I shrugged, pretending I didn't care. "I suppose."

We were so good. I bet no one in the camp suspects _us _of being in love.

We sat in a corner where we could see what everyone was doing and talk about them. It's not really gossiping, more like swapping reports about our fellows.

We saw Father Mulcahy, Corporal Klinger, and Colonel Blake sitting together, talking quietly.

"That Klinger," Frank said, shaking his head. "A disgrace to this man's army."

I murmured my agreement. Although, I had to admit, I did like his particular choice of color today, a most magnificent shade of blue.

"And what about the colonel?" Frank continued. "He allows it! He allows everything everyone does around here."

"I know!" That was something I whole heartedly agreed with. "If _you _were in charge......"

He laughed. "Boy, do I know it! I would make you second in command."

"Really?"

"Well, who would you expect me to choose? Pierce?"

We both started laughing at that ridiculous idea. Pierce in second command, indeed!

We shifted our attention to Captains McIntyre, Pierce, and Winifred who were just sitting down.

"Now those three are a disgrace," Frank said.

"Winifred used to be alright," I said, thinking about before she had really started hanging around McIntyre and Pierce.

Frank shrugged. "I suppose. But what about obvious her and Pierce are? You and I are much more civilized about our relationship."

"I know! I can only _imagine _what she and Pierce do in private when they act like that in public!" I said, looking disgustedly at close the two were sitting.

We saw Corporal O'Reilly approaching the three captains. "Now he's alright. Respectful and efficient," I said approvingly. "I just hope he's not affected like Winifred was."

Frank shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, he already has been. That little twerp gets on my nerves."

I laughed. "_Everyone _gets on your nerves."

"Not you Margaret."

"Oh Frank..."

It was good to know I had a true friend here.


	6. Chapter 6

Corporal Radar O'Reilly

A lot of people say I'm efficient. I guess they're right, although I don't like to brag. I've only been up a few hours and I've already got the daily report ready, filled out the transfer forms for one of our nurses, and completed the forms for ordering more penicillin and more meatloaf. Oh, and I've also done the forms for ordering more forms. Boy, there's a lot of paper work in the army!

But I'm only doing my job. The surgeons and nurses, now _they're _the efficient ones. They'll work for days on end sometimes trying to patch up wounded soldiers. And their job is harder than mine. I don't have to worry about my papers dying or getting a disease I can't diagnose or can't cure. Although, I do have to keep an eye out for my rabbits...

But anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I may be efficient. But I'm definitely not the only one.

Author's Note: Sorry, it's so short! I couldn't think of much of a plot. Don't worry, the next one is Hawkeye, and his is longer.


	7. Chapter 7

Captain B.F. Hawkeye Pierce

Thunder roared outside. Lightning flashed. Rain poured. Wind howled. It was great weather, the cold rain and the chilly wind announcing the oncoming autumn. Which wouldn't last long. Autumn never lasted long... It would go almost straight to winter. Unbearably cold winter.

I lay in my cot, thinking. Today had been an awful day and I wasn't talking about the weather. Come to think of it, almost every day here was an awful day. But today especially. I had lost a patient. He died right in front of me on the operating table. I'd lost patients before, but usually by the time they got here, they were unconscious and you could tell you would have a difficult surgery ahead of you. But today was different. I'd really thought I could save him. And he'd been awake. The scene kept replaying in my mind:

_"Get two units of O positive blood!" I had ordered. "Get him into pre-op!"_

_"Hey, doc," the soldier said. "Am I gonna make it?"_

_I nodded. "Oh yeah, no doubt."_

_He looked relieved. "Thanks, doc. I didn't really want to die yet, you know? I got a lot to live for back at home." _

That one statement tore away at my heart: _I got a lot to live for back at home... a lot to live for... LIVE for..._

And then there was the scene at the OR:

_"Hawkeye, you're losing him!" Belle had said._

_"What?" I couldn't believe it. This wasn't the most difficult surgery I had ever done._

_Belle's face turned white. "Didn't you order O positive blood for him?"_

_"Of course!"_

_"His dog tags say O _negative, _Hawkeye."_

_"Negative?"_

_"He's gone, Hawkeye. I'm sorry."_

He's dead. And it's _my _fault. I read his dog tags wrong. I should have known. O negative is compatible with either O type. I should have ordered that to be on the safe side. But I could have swore it said O _positive._

Suddenly I realized Trapper was staring at me as if he were waiting for an answer.

"Sorry... what?"

Trapper sighed and shook his head. "It's the lost patient, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"It's war, Hawk. You know what they say. Young men die. Sometimes there's nothing the doctors can do."

"You don't understand! He died because of me!"

"And how's that?"

"I gave him the wrong blood type!"

Frank suddenly sat up from his bed. "What? You _killed _him!"

I felt my stomach drop. I did.

Trapper threw a pillow at Frank's face. "Lay off him, Ferret Face!"

"I'm going to visit Belle."

Frank snickered. "Why? She's not a savage. She doesn't love murderers."

I stumbled out of my tent into the storm, agonizing flashbacks coursing through every thought.

_I've got a lot to live for... Hawkeye, you're losing him!... He's gone, Hawkeye... He died because of me!... I gave him the wrong blood type!... What? You killed him!... She doesn't love murderers... a lot to live for... He's gone... because of me!... You killed him..._

Eventually I got to Belle's tent. I knocked, although I was afraid. Frank's words ricocheted in my head... _She's not a savage. She doesn't love murderers._

Belle opened the door. "Hawkeye!" she said, sounding pleasantly surprised. She stepped aside to let me in. I walked in and noticed that my hair and clothes were dripping wet with cold water. Maybe I should've wore a coat.

Belle noticed too. With an amused smile, she wrapped a blanket around my trembling shoulders. "So what brings you here in this type of weather?"

I put my arms around her and pulled her close to me. "I need a hug." My feelings about the patient raged inside of me so that it rivaled the storm outside. Then I realized she was laughing so I pulled away, hurt. "What's so funny?"

"You left your tent, in such a hurry that you couldn't grab a coat, and went into the frenzied storm... for a hug?"

Even I realized that sounded a little ridiculous. "Well... it's not just that."

The humor faded from her eyes. "It's about that patient, isn't it?"

I hung my head. "I killed him."

She looked taken aback. "Anyone could have read the tags wrong. They were so messed up from the battle."

"_You _read them."

She shook her head. "I wasn't trying to make fast decisions. I happened to see it in the OR."

I felt miserable. She looked into my eyes. "People have made worst mistakes. Remember mine?"

I sighed. "You didn't know the disinfectant was water. Frank did that. And besides, I didn't die. Thanks to you."

"You tried everything you could."

"Except getting it right."

"There's nothing you can do now."

I sighed. "I know. That's the worst part."

Belle was silent. The guilt was starting to make me feel sick. I'm sure being soaked to the bone in cold water wasn't helping either.

I hugged Belle again, taking some comfort from her warmth. I tried to forget everything and just find security in her loving arms, but the nagging guilt remained.

"Hawkeye, mistakes happen. Death happens. It's war. Patients die in surgery."

I opened my mouth to argue, but she put her finger over my lips. "Shhhh. Giving yourself a heart attack over one patient won't help the rest of them. I think you've suffered enough for that mistake. I know you'll never forget it, but don't let it dominate your world."

I sighed. "All right."

She kissed me once on each cheek. "I love you, Hawkeye. But it's my medical opinion that you should go home and change into dry clothes."

I smiled and kissed her on the lips. "Okay lovely."


	8. Chapter 8

Nurse Belle Winifred

As I made my rounds one morning, I realized that more of our patients were doctors than they were soldiers. This was because winter was here and with it- flu season. Luckily, there had been a lull in the fighting, so at least we didn't have to worry about a shortage of surgeons in the OR. So far, Frank, Margaret and a few other nurses had already gotten it and recovered from it. Right now Trapper, Father Mulcahy, and Hawkeye had it.

I came to Trapper's bed. He had gotten over the worst of his and was now sleeping soundly. I gingerly took his temperature and blood pressure to avoid waking him. It sure had been strange in the mess tent without Hawkeye and Trapper's jokes. And it was stranger still to visit them in post-op. Usually Trapper was able to stay cheerful and Hawkeye was always able to joke about what was going on. But recently, they had been quiet and miserable.

I went to the next bed- Father Mulcahy. He was sitting up, though he looked weary.

"Hello, Belle," he said faintly.

"Hi, Father. Up to eating today?"

"I suppose."

I quickly checked him over before getting him a bowl of oatmeal off the tray I had sitting on the desk in the corner.

Next was Hawkeye. He had the worst case of the flu we'd seen all season.

He was staring up at me with glazed eyes.

"Hi, Hawkeye," I said quietly.

He broke into a raspy cough instead of replying.

I gently stroked his arm while taking his temperature. 103 degrees Fahrenheit. Despite his high temperature, he was shivering under his blankets.

"Please make me better, Belle," he murmured weakly.

"There's not much I can do, sweet. You just have to rest." I indicated to the desk with Trapper's bowl and Hawkeye's bowl still on it. "And eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"It looks like you haven't been," I commented, looking at his charts where he was marked as "Refusing to eat." "But you have to eat to get better," I said encouragingly. "How else will you keep your strength up?"

He sighed. "All right."

He hauled himself up into a sitting position and took the bowl I had gotten for him.

After I checked on one last patient, I came back to see that Father Mulcahy had finished his food and gone to sleep. "If only Hawkeye would be so cooperative," I muttered. He had gone back to sleep without even finishing a quarter of his.

The next day, I came to relieve Margaret of post-op duty.

"The last of the soldiers were shipped out this morning," she told me. "Captain McIntyre and Father Mulcahy are doing alright, they've both eaten. However, Pierce is still refusing to eat much and has gotten worse."

"Worse?"

"His fever has gone up and he's hallucinating." She looked in frustration at Hawkeye. "If you can't get him to eat during your shift, he's going to be fed through IV."

"I'll try."

Since Margaret had just taken temperatures and blood pressure, I went straight to the desk and got the last bowl there and went to Hawkeye.

"Hello, Hawkeye."

"Make them go away!" he wailed.

"Who?" I glanced around in alarm.

"Them!" he pointed like there was someone standing at the foot of his bed. I realized he must be hallucinating. "Can't you see them?" he asked wildly. He put his hands over his head... "I bet they're the ones making my head hurt! Make them stop, Belle!"

"Maybe if you eat, they'll leave you alone."

"But I'm not hu-"

I quickly put a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. He glared at me, but he chewed and swallowed.

"Have another bite," I cooed.

He reluctantly opened his mouth again. Eventually, I'd fed him half the bowl.

"Do I have to eat anymore?" he asked, his eyelids drooping.

"No," I said affectionately. "You did good."

Soon, the tables turned. Hawkeye got better and _I _was sick.

Hawkeye was sitting next to my bed with a bowl of oatmeal in his lap.

"Come on, lovely," he said, holding a spoonful of oatmeal in front of my face.

"I'm not hungry."

"Boy, this seems familiar," he said, eyes shining with amusement.

"It's not fu-" I was interrupted by a spoon of oatmeal being shoved in my mouth.

Hawkeye smiled. "What, you thought I forgot that little trick?"


End file.
